


Cocktails and Sexual Harassment Training

by SerialObsessor (ibelieveinturtles)



Series: Donuts in My Bra and Other Stories [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 150 follower prompts, F/M, Fic Giveaway, Gift Fic, Kidnapping, Tumblr Prompts, taserbones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 02:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinturtles/pseuds/SerialObsessor
Summary: Darcy thinks STRIKE could use some extra training. Natasha’s got her back.





	Cocktails and Sexual Harassment Training

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phoenix_173](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_173/gifts).



> Phoenix_173 asked: B4, writer's choice. ;p :D 
> 
> set between Thor: The Dark World and Captain America: The Winter Soldier. 
> 
> Beta’d by the lovely [catrinasl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CatrinaSL/)

**Cocktails and Sexual Harassment Training**

* * *

* * *

 

* * *

 

Darcy still wasn't sure how she'd been conned into Elfing for Santa at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Christmas party, but as soon as she figured it out, someone would be sorry. She tugged down the too-short skirt, pasted on a smile, and deftly stabbed her heel into the foot of the junior S.T.R.I.K.E. team member who'd just grabbed her ass. As soon as this was all over, she swore to herself, she was going to take full advantage of the free bar.

She was up to her fifth drink by the time Natasha wandered over to say hello. 

“Hello, Darcy. How are you tonight?” Nat greeted her with a society kiss to the cheek and then signalled the bartender for a drink.

Darcy gave her a half hearted smile and then resumed glowering into her drink.

“Well, I've only had to fend off about seven assholes who asked my boobs if they'd like to dance or needed a drink, so, hey. I'm having a great time.”

Nat frowned. “Who do I need to talk to?” she asked. 

“Whoever runs the sexual harassment part of the induction,” Darcy huffed. “‘Cos when seven out of eight guys are getting it wrong, that's probably a good place to start.”

“Thank you,” Natasha said as she pulled out her phone and tapped out a message. “I think I might take the next class.”

Darcy turned to Nat, the first genuine smile of the evening spreading across her face. “I want to see the footage afterwards,” she begged.

“Of course,” Nat replied. She picked up her drink and took a sip as she turned to survey the ballroom. “Out of curiosity, who was number eight? The polite one?”

Darcy fidgeted in her seat, tossing down the dregs of her drink. “Commander Rumlow,” she said. “He’s hot, and if he'd asked first I  **might** have said yes? But… I dunno. He’s old enough to be my dad. Guys that old aren't usually my thing.”

Natasha nodded in understanding but didn't say anything. Darcy demanded another drink and they sat in companionable silence as they watched the party.

After a while, Natasha finished her cocktail, and turned to Darcy again.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, toying with the stem of her glass.

“What?” Darcy replied, momentarily confused.

“Do you trust me?” Nat asked.

Darcy blinked at her, and then, slowly nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do. I'd trust you with my life, Nat.”

Natasha smiled. “In that case,” she said, “When Rumlow comes over again, say yes?”

Darcy was slightly taken aback. “Are you trying to set me up?” she asked suspiciously. “Wait. What makes you think he'll try again?”

Natasha smiled one of her trademark enigmatic smiles and got up. “You said you trust me, remember,” she said ominously, and walked away.

Darcy watched the other woman join a conversation with Captain America Himself, shrugged, and went back to her drink.  _ I'm gonna finish this one, and then I'm going home, _ she thought.

In spite of her declaration to herself, Darcy continued to sit at the bar, stirring at the ice in her glass with her straw. The evening hadn't been what she'd been led to believe. Jane and Thor had been occupied with ‘important’ members of the S.H.I.E.L.D. hierarchy all evening, and she'd been left to her own devices after stomping on gropey Santa's feet one last time. 

And why she'd expected to find a decent man here... well, she only had herself to blame for higher than sensible expectations, she supposed.

She lifted her head as someone slipped into the stool next to her.

“Miss Lewis.”

“Commander,” she replied, doing her best not to seem unfriendly.

He nodded at her glass. “Did you want another one of those?”

Darcy stared back at her melted ice for a moment, and then tossed her hair back over her shoulder as she made a decision. “You know, I hadn't really finished deciding, but if you're offering…”

He signalled the bartender and turned to face her.

“I'd like to apologise,” he said. “I understand some of my subordinates have been less than respectful towards you this evening.”

Darcy waved a dismissive hand at him. “Eh. It's nothing I don't deal with on a regular basis,” she said.

“That doesn't mean it's right,” he said. “They'll be disciplined.” 

The bartender set their drinks down, and he picked hers up and passed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. “I'd prefer it if they just learnt to keep their eyes up and their hands off, really.”

Rumlow smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant one. “Harassment training has been scheduled for first thing tomorrow morning,” he told her.

“Wow. That was quick.”

“The Widow doesn't mess around.”

Darcy lifted her drink in a toast. “Amen to that,” she said, and drained her glass.

~☆~

Darcy groaned as she slowly regained consciousness. As awareness seeped into her brain she became aware that she was sitting in some sort of vehicle, her head leaning against the door. The vibrations were causing her teeth to rattle.

She groaned again as she realised her head was pounding, her mouth was dry, and she generally felt like absolute shit. She shifted slightly in her seat, and that was when she realised her hands were zip tied together.

“What the fuck?” she rasped out.

“There's a bottle of water in the central console,” a familiar voice said. “You're probably dehydrated.”

She prised her eyes open and turned her head.

“What the fuck?” she moaned again. “You drugged me? And tied me up?” 

“Sorry about that, but it had to look real.” Rumlow picked up the bottle and held it out for her. She stared at him suspiciously for a minute, detecting no tones of remorse in his voice at all. Giving in, she reached out for it cautiously. 

“Did you drug this as well?” she asked sourly.

He glanced across at her, a smug expression in his face. “Didn't need to.”

She glared at him a bit more, and then attempted to remove the cap from the bottle. The zip ties around her wrists made it difficult.

“How am I supposed to get this off with these on?” she demanded. 

He reached over and loosened the cap for her, and she immediately took a big mouthful.

“Hey, slow down. Little sips,” Rumlow said, frowning at her.

“Go fuck yourself,” Darcy muttered, but took the advice anyway, closing her eyes as she continued to sip slowly at the water.

Watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye, Rumlow opened a compartment in the center console and held out a sheet of ibuprofen.

“Take a couple of these, they'll help.”

“This would be a lot easier if you took these stupid things off me.” she waved her hands at him.

“We'll be stopping soon, I'll take them off then.”

“What the fuck is going on?” she attempted to demand, but it came out as more of a piteous whine.

“There are people who have a vested interest in Doctor Foster’s research and want to a) get you out of the way so they can put their own person in, and b) use you as leverage to get her to cooperate.”

Darcy sucked in a deep breath. She wasn't completely surprised, but like most people, never expected this kind something to happen to her. “Are you—are you one of them?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly.

“But I don't know anything!” she wailed.

“They don't need you to know anything,” he said. “They just want to replace you with someone of their own. And use you as leverage to get Dr. Foster to cooperate.”

“What? Why?” 

Rumlow shook his head. “Better that you don't know any details.”

“Fuck.” Darcy sighed and stared out the window into the inky blackness. There was nothing to see—no lights to indicate any kind of civilisation—just a lot of trees. Then something he'd said pinged in her brain.

“If you're one of them, why do you keep saying ‘them’ and ‘they?’” she asked.

He gave her an appraising look. “Are you as sharp as they say you are?”

“What?” Darcy was having trouble keeping up with the conversation.

“If you're as smart as they say you are,” he said, “keep your mouth shut, and your ears and eyes open. You might learn something.”

Darcy glared at him, and took another sip of water. Fuck him  **and** his non-answers.

They drove on in silence for several more minutes until he slowed down and turned into a side road. 

“Almost there,” he said, driving carefully along what could barely be signified with the title of track, let alone road.

One final turn through the trees and they were pulling up in front of a surprisingly modern looking house.

Rumlow turned the car off, got out, and walked around to open her door.

“Now, in case you were thinking of running or something equally stupid, there's traps set all through these woods. I'm not going to hurt you, I'm just trying to keep you safe. Understand?”

She nodded mutely. Like she was going to believe a word he said.

“Hold your hands up,” he ordered.

She didn't see where the knife came from, but he cut the ties off with a quick flick of a wrist and then helped her out of the car.

“I'm still not sure I understand what's going on here,” she complained, following him into the house. 

“All you need to understand for now is that you're safe.”

“You've got a weird definition of safe,” Darcy grumbled as he led her through a neat living area to a well appointed modern kitchen.

“Not really. You're alive, aren't you?”

Darcy gasped and stopped.

“You were supposed to kill me?” she asked, horrified.

“Not immediately,” he replied, and the smile he gave her sent a shudder down her spine.

“Oh Jesus fuck,” she said, and her legs collapsed underneath her. Rumlow swore, and strode back to where she was slumped against the wall.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said, lifting her into his arms. “But you won't be going anywhere for a while.”

“Waddya mean?” Darcy slurred, the events of the evening catching up with her again.

He set her down carefully on one of the couches in the living room, and squatted down in front of her, bracing his hands on the couch on either side of her legs, and staring into her eyes.

“You can't go back,” he said, enunciating the words slowly and clearly. “My employers need to think I'm following orders, so Dr. Foster needs to seem like she's worried about you. Don't worry, you'll be safe here. No one knows about this place.”

“What do you mean I can't go back?” Darcy asked, still confused.

Rumlow sighed, and reached up to brush a lock of hair away from her face.

“Darcy, everyone you know needs to think that you're dead. Unless something big happens, you're here for the foreseeable future. I'm sorry.”

Darcy stared. Her brain whirled as she tried to parse what he was telling her. She blinked, took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak, and then passed out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All pictures courtesy of Google
> 
> My Tumblr, if you're interested, is [ibelieveinturtles](http://ibelieveinturtles.tumblr.com/)


End file.
